


Make A Joyful Noise

by Buttercupbadass



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Life after a revolution, feel good fluff, new traditions, trying to get my writing mojo back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27355324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttercupbadass/pseuds/Buttercupbadass
Summary: Haymitch and the kids face the future following the Revolution.   How do you pass the day that you used to dread?  The townspeople of 12 find a way to do it together.
Relationships: Haymitch Abernathy/Effie Trinket, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	Make A Joyful Noise

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's been forever since I've written. 2020 has not been kind in so many ways but for me, it's brought the loss of a job and no inspiration. That is until this little idea wouldn't let me go. This is just a little piece of feel good fluff to get my writing mojo back. And maybe, just maybe it'll give you a little hope as we face our own future this election day. No matter the outcome - people can still find some common ground.
> 
> My thanks to @Katnissdoesnotfollowback for her editing & the gorgeous title but mostly for her friendship.

Year 76

Dawn used to be my bedtime after drinking my night away. The rays of sunlight peeking over the distant mountains would remind me to give in to slumber and the nightmares that would inevitably haunt in the day. Better to wake from that terror in the light.

Now with a body clear of alcohol and days filled instead with hard work rebuilding my burned out hometown, the rays of sunlight are my alarm. Sleep comes now, as it should, at night. Mornings are no longer feared. In fact, they have become quite enjoyable, with the early hours of the morning being Effie’s favorite time to canoodle. (Her word for morning sex – not mine) 

But Effie isn’t here today. She absconded to her Capitol apartment for the week with the excuse of a big assignment. Truth is she didn’t want to be in the District today. Today would have been the 76th Reaping. Effie feared her presence would be too big of a reminder for the residents of 12. A former Escort walking through town on the day that just a year ago threatened to take one of their own might be too much for them to take. Effie still feels eyes on her in town on a normal day. Old hatred dies hard and despite her work for the rebellion and devotion to our kids on days like today she fears it could boil over. 

So this morning, I woke up alone with absolutely no idea how to approach the first Reaping Day since the end of the Hunger Games. Do I ignore it, and hide away? Head off to work in town as usual or head out into the woods and don’t come back until it’s over? Screams from across the yard echo and make the decision for me. 

Katniss calling out for her sister in blood curdling sobs used to be the norm in the Village just a few months ago, but since Peeta moved into her mother’s old room (Yeah, right) they only come when she’s under stress. I stand and move to the window to listen. I hear his indistinct soothing words and I know she’s calmed down already.

Today isn’t just about Katniss though. I worry about Peeta too. Peeta who could be reminded of the last two years of his life when he was offered up in sacrifice, or that a year ago he saw his family for the last time across the town square. Today both my kids are going to need me.

To be honest, if it weren’t for the kids, I would feel pretty damn good today. For the first time in 30 years I can wake on this day without fear of being reaped or condemning a child to death. 

I give the kids time to compose themselves before heading over for breakfast. When Effie is away, Peeta insists on feeding me breakfast. I find them both at the kitchen table, sitting silently. Peeta is staring into his cooling tea as Katniss looks straight ahead. I can tell Peeta wants to talk but treads lightly as to not upset Katniss. Taking care of her helps him to get through the days but he forgets he still needs help sometimes too.

“Morning Haymitch,” Peeta mumbles as he stands to start our breakfast.

Suddenly I’m struck with an idea. We’re just going to face it today, together.

“Wait kid!” Peeta stops and Katniss looks up at the abruptness of my command. “We’re going to town today.”

Peeta’s eyes widen as he tries to tell me silently that this isn’t a good idea. “We were going to head to the Lake today”

“Lake will be there tomorrow. Today, we need to go to town.”

“Haymitch, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Nope, we need this. Let’s start with breakfast at the Hob and we’ll go from there. No arguments. We’re not hiding away today. We fought a damn war and lost a lot of good people. They wouldn’t want us to waste a day, any day but especially today.”

When Peeta took over the responsibility of making sure Katniss was fed, Sae decided to feed all the people of 12 instead. She established a small cafe in a tent near the remains of the old Hob. Tables are hobbled together from construction scraps and chairs made from stumps but the place is always lively and no one goes hungry whether they can pay or not. Our old friend is surprised to see us but says nothing, just serves up a hearty breakfast. We eat in silence. Katniss’ seething scowl tells me how pleased she is with my tough love today. As we leave, instead of turning back toward the Village, I head directly into town. I hear Katniss and Peeta whisper to each other. I can sense a mutiny and nip it in the ass.

“Let’s go.” I demand and am surprised when they follow.

As we walk through the district, the atmosphere is subdued. Work continues on the reconstruction of the buildings in the square but everything is hushed. No one is greeting anyone. Faces turn away. And it’s not just to us, it’s everyone. There is a shadow falling over the district suppressing a fear that bubbles under the surface.

The kids fall a bit behind me, walking shoulder to shoulder with their fingers brushing against one another in need to connect. They’re still afraid to show any affection for each other in public. Always in each other’s company but never touching. It’s getting pretty ridiculous, as if the townspeople can’t see the matching set of lovebites they tend to sport. Effie and I speculate if things have progressed beyond the makeout sessions we’ve walked in on a few times. She of course thinks it’s innocent but I’m no fool. 

We pass through the town center, past the ruins of the Capitol building, past the remains of what were once Peeta’s family home. We pause in front of the new school still under construction. We’re each silent and in our own thoughts until the still is shattered with a clanging racket. We look to each other and decide to follow the noise into the government provided temporary housing for residents and workers.

The noise echoes off the surrounding hills. We pause and watch as one boy, Billy Cartwright, walks into view followed by mothers and other children from the housing units. He carries a large pot, hitting it over and over with a hammer, denting it with each strike but he doesn’t stop. As he approaches the town center, workers pause their work and watch with curiosity. I see his sweet older sister rush to his side and try to quiet him but he ignores Delly and continues on, gathering more and more of a crowd until he comes to a stop in front of the remains of the shoe store his family once owned and was his home. 

He climbs to the top of a pile of bricks and the people of the new 12 gather around. So few are originally from here, the rest hail from throughout Panem. Although from other districts, we share a hatred for this day. We stand still as this boy – the same age as Prim would have been – the same age Finnick was when he was reaped - this 14 year old boy climbs the bricks that once were the walls of his home pounding on a dented pot. His cadence speeds up until he stops abruptly, swallows, breaths in and yells.

“I AM ALIVE! I AM FREE!”

The crowd lets out a collective breath. Other children pick up the chant. “I AM FREE!” “I AM FREE!” Adults join in, clapping and whooping. A mother spins her happily shouting child. Standing shoulder to shoulder with my two victors, I hear Katniss whisper along. Peeta and I echo it.

As quickly as it started, it ends in laughter and the crowd disperses. The Reaping Day fear is over. The day passed with no children being offered up. The kids and I return to our homes. Later, I call Effie to tell her about the day. The kids find their own way to pass the night. I don’t ask.

Year 77

The second Reaping Day since the revolution brings with it a new name for District 12. Well, an old name reclaimed by the citizens of this new nation of New Panem. Appalachia, the ancient name of the mountain range where we make our home has been selected by the residents to replace the designation that stripped away any character.

With the selection of the new name came official ceremonies and the press. Katniss and Peeta wanted to hide away at their lakeside cabin but duty called when the mayor requested that they be part of the name reveal. “The people of town would like them to participate.” He cajoled. No longer hiding their personal relationship, the townspeople enjoy seeing their heroes so happy together. They couldn’t say no.

I watch from the stage. Effie is here this year but hiding behind the cameras and out of sight. As Katniss and Peeta remove a sheet covering the new town name and announce to all of New Panem that District 12 is now Appalachia there is polite applause from the crowd. From the back of the sqare comes a loud racket. I see a smile break out of Katniss’ face. The children of 12 emerge from all sides of the square. All banging various items to a clang together. Pots, trash cans, drums whatever they could find. They all converge on the naming ceremony. There are more children here now. More have arrived with the completion of homes and the school. They are led by Billy Cartwright, now healthy and tall banging on the same dented pot. The beat gets louder and faster as they approach the crowd and the officials on the dais.

The Capitol news crews don’t know if they should flee in fear of retaliation or film. Effie knows what’s going on, of course and she instructs them to turn their cameras on the children.

This time the beat stops and silence falls. The mantra “I AM ALIVE! I AM FREE” begins echoing off the new buildings. I catch Effie’s eye and see the tears shining. 

Then Peeta joins the call “I AM FREE!” He yells. “I AM ALIVE!” Katniss continues.

Video of the new Appalachian tradition is shown all over the country. The next year similar demonstrations take place throughout the former districts each adding their own influence to the mix. It grows over the years. A national holiday is established. Freedom Day becomes a day of family, a day to enjoy the children and community. 

Freedom Day, Year 87

Before the Revolution, I could never have imagined that I’d be seated on a blanket in the meadow with Effie at my side, a four-year-Willow sleeping between us. Katniss and Peeta are sitting on the next blanket. Katniss is relaxed with her feet stretched out before her, a small smile graces her face as she tilts her head to take in the summer sun. Their infant son sits on Peeta’s lap giggling at my daughter as she chases her older brother in a circle around our family.

As noon approaches Effie, ever the one to keep on schedule, calls the kids back to our blanket. 

“Hurry up children, time to get ready.” She straps a new drum around the neck of our son. Our daughter grabs a set of symbols passed down from her brother. Peeta digs into his pocket and pulls out a rattle that he hands to his son. Rye grabs it with two hands of spit-wet fingers and brings it immediately to his mouth.

Effie brushes back the hair covering Willow’s face. “Wake up my love. It’s time.” Her bright blue eyes spring open as she scrambles over Effie’s lap to her parents. Digging into her mother’s bag she pulls out two bread pans.

“Time to yell, Daddy?” my girl asks.

“Time to yell loud!” I answer.

Billy Cartwright left the district with his sister years ago, but he’s here today with his wife and new baby to celebrate the tradition he started. He still has the same pot. As the town hall clock strikes twelve, the same time when for 75 years the reaping would commence, Billy begins the tradition he started. He raises his hammer and strikes his pot to set the cadence. 

All the children of Appalachia join in with their improvised noisemakers. The Children, now a generation removed from the last Hunger Games, will be taught about the horrors of the reaping but thankfully, will never truly know the fear and loss. 

As the drums quiet the calls begin all around us. “I AM ALIVE. I AM FREE!” my children yell. 

“I AM ALIVE. I AM FREE!” I yell.


End file.
